She looked up at Clint, eyes glazed over with the faintest of smiles on her face. She was trying to make this easier for him.
"Let me go."
Her voice is strangely calm, but Clint doesn't want to believe this is happening.
"No, please, no." He chokes back a sob, gripping Natasha's hand as tightly as possible as they sway back and forth in the wind. The grappling hook shifts ever so slightly, causing Clint to look up, worried.
Oh God, please let it be me.
Tears roll down Clint's face as he looks at Nat one final time. He knows that look. She has a goal set, and not a soul, not even Clint, will get in her way of it Clint chokes on tears and fights the urge to scream, yell and curse, convincing her he's the one that should drop. He knows it would be pointless.
There's a moment-something that Clint can't quite explain- it was almost peaceful. Natasha's long hair billowed around her, framing her face as she looked up her best friend. Her skin was ever so pale, and she looked calm with her deepest eyes and prominent cheekbones. Clint soaks up every inch of her, every memory they shared, every mission they went on together, every fight they ever had, he remembers it all. They both were not ones to get attached, but they loved each other. From the minute Clint defied orders and recruited her for SHIELD, they had been inseparable. They understood each other, two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together. Always have, always will be.
"It's okay."
"No, no!" A cry leaps from Clint's throat as she slips through his fingers, looking up at him. He watches her as she falls, gliding through the air with purpose. She knew what she was doing. She always did. She gets closer and closer to the ground.
Clint turns away. He hears a thump.
"Nat!" Clint sputters and chokes on water as he sits up abruptly, waking from what seemed to have been a dream. He looks around him, forgetting where he was. Submerged in ankle deep water, he's surrounded by a mist of red, and in the distance stood a large mountain. He feels a heavy weight in his hand, and lifts it out of the water to see what it is. He sees a flash of yellow and the wave of pain hits him like a bullet in the skull.
He sobs deep within his chest, gasping on breath he can't control. Fat, hot tears roll down his cheeks as he slams his hands down into the water, angry at himself, angry at Nat, angry at the world. He coughs and weeps, thinking nothing, knowing nothing, only pain. The only comprehensible thought he produces is on repeat in his head like an annoying voice that won't go away.
But the voice is right.
It should have been me.
The funeral is small and quiet, family and friends only. Her casket is covered in white roses and she lay peacefully inside it, hands intertwined at her waist, holding a small arrow necklace between them. If it weren't for the circumstances, Clint could've thought she was sleeping. He wanted nothing more in the world than to crack a bad joke and have her spring up, taser in hand, and chase him around the compound until she finally caught him, all the while howling with laughter.
"Did she have any family?" Tony whispers to Steve who shares the bench he's sitting on. He looks ridiculously big on that tiny bench, but his eyes tell a different story. They're red and puffy, from crying, presumably, and he's hunched over himself, almost as if he's trying to make himself smaller.
He takes a long breath out. "Just us." He says, voice wavering. Tony puts a hand on his shoulder, trying not to overstep his boundaries but at the same time wanting to comfort his friend.
Tony had loved Natasha from the moment he met her. Hell, he even loved her when she was "Natalie Rushman", his so-called assistant who turned out to be a spy from SHIELD sent to keep an eye on him. He could never get mad at her, even when she revealed her true identity to him. She claimed she was a monster. Tony thinks she's a fucking hero.
Across the lawn, Bruce sits alone; he looks off at the lake with a dazed look on his eyes, almost as if he hasn't fully come to terms with it yet. Like he half-believes Nat is gonna walk out of the compound doors right now with her signature smirk and say, "Sorry I'm late, trouble with the council," and then plop herself down next to Bruce.
Wanda stands at the back of the rows, along with Thor, Peter, Scott, and Bucky. She sheds a silent tear for the bravest woman she ever new, her mentor, her role model, her leader.
Bucky can hardly believe it. Doesn't want to believe it. You can't just kill Natalia Alianovna Romanova, you just can't. Trust him, the Winter soldier tried, dozens of times. Despite his doubt about her actually being dead, he feels a heavy weight pulling at his heart. He had loved this woman for so long, so agonizingly long. She was one of the two people in this goddamned world that Bucky still cared about after he got his memory back, and now she was gone. One of the two people he's ever loved. Gone. A lump catches in his throat as he walks forward and sits down next to Steve.
Steve looks up, dreary eyed and dazed. They share a knowing look. Saying nothing, they lean into each other, holding one another up. Steve rests against Bucky's shoulder and lets out a choked sob. It was just the two of them now.
A heavy weight fell over the compound for the next months, an emptiness that no-one could ignore. News reports and murals popped up left and right, honoring the one and only Black Widow, who made the ultimate sacrifice to reverse the snap. Little girls spoke on the news of how she was their favorite Avenger, and how they inspired her to do whatever she wants. Men and women alike come forward and talk of moments when the Widow saved their life, some even more than once. She was a silent protection over the people, who didn't know what they had until it was gone.
2 YEARS LATER
Clint is walking through town one day, gathering supplies for Laura and the kids who wanted to do some kind of arts and crafts thing, he didn't know. The small town about 20 miles away from his house was nothing to marvel at, a few shops here, and restaurant there, and that was pretty much it. He tales a deep breath of the clean country air as he walks back to his truck from the small market. He loads his groceries and is about to climb in the car when he is stopped by a frantic, high pitched voice coming from behind him.
"Sir!" He could hear their panting and heavy footsteps as they got closer to him. He turns, and finds himself talking yet again to the young teenager who had checked his groceries out for him. They were grasping a sheet of paper, winded from running after him.
"Sir.... You, errr." They stumble over their words. "You forgot this." They shove the paper in his hands, and Clint looks up at them as they dash back into the store.
"Hey, I don't think I'm the right guy I didn't leave anyth-" He stops as he turns the paper over. It was so intricate you could see the singular hairs on her head, the gloss of her lips in the light, and the curl of her eyelashes. She held a small grin, but her eyes gave her away. She looked truly, deeply happy. It was inexplicable. It was her.
Clint looks up to thank the young person who handed him the drawing but he found himself standing in an empty parking lot. Wiping away tears, he climbs into his truck and closes the door, speeding home faster than he ever had.
When he got home he completely forget about the groceries in the back of the truck, and instead he headed straight for his shed. Inside, he found an old picture frame containing the one and only picture of Ms. Romanoff ever taken. Only ever seen by Clint, or so he thought. He hangs it up on the wall, and pulls out another frame. Putting the drawing in, he hangs it side by side with the picture. It was unmistakable. The curl of her hair was in the exact same spot, and her cheeks held the dimples that only few knew about. It was the same picture.
He scans his memory to think of some way he might know that kid, even if it was just for a fraction of a second in the background of his vision. He sat for a while, staring off into space as he raked through each and every one of his memories with Natasha. He goes as far back as he can remember, thinking of missions, coffee shops, airplane rides, anything, when it suddenly comes to him. He springs to his feet and sends a few tools around him flying to the ground. A large smile has creeped it's way onto Clint's face and he can't seem to wipe it off. He hears a knock at the door.
"Hey hon, you alright?" It's Laura, and she's brought him a glass of water and a concerned look. she always knew.
"What are you thinking about in here?" She looks concernedly at his goof grin, unable to place the source of it.
Clint just smiles wider, and feels his heart expand as he says his 3 favorite syllables he hadn't uttered in years.
"Budapest."